


Polarity

by gravy



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Background Relationships, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, Misunderstandings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-03-17 07:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18960523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravy/pseuds/gravy
Summary: After seeing Ephraim fight, Luthier only wanted to keep Delthea away from his reckless tactics, lest she follow suit. But he never expected to grow so close to the brash prince himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> well this is happening for some reason
> 
> i wanna thank whoever came up with FEH, which makes it possible to ship anyone in the fire emblem universe.
> 
> and yes im aware luthier isn't in the game yet... but once he is, im gonna go ham

When Luthier is brought to the kingdom of Askr, he is first greeted by a hooded figure and a talking owl.

Needless to say, he wonders if he's dreaming.

He introduces himself to the two, not knowing what other options he has, and in the process, more individuals appear from the shadows behind the cloaked summoner. It's hard to tell if he knows anyone due to the blinding light glowing below him. At least until a most familiar voice calls out to him.

"Lu? Is that seriously you, Luthier?!"

"Delthea?"

A long, brown, ponytail bounces through the small gathering of people until he sees his younger sister stepping out in front of them. Luthier is speechless when he sees her-- while it hasn't been long since he had left the country, she looks exactly the same as he remembers before he left to travel overseas.

Delthea rubs her eyes once. Twice. She blinks several times before balantly staring at him with her mouth agape. "You're really here, huh... we didn't think anyone else from our world would be summoned."

" _We_?"

He scans the crowd again, and sees Alm and Gray waving at him excitedly. And behind them, Lukas gives a humble nod in greeting.

"I can't believe it," Delthea laughs, trying and failing to hold down her giddy smile. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."

It's unlike her to even cast such a genuine smile at him in front of so many others. Luthier's heart swells with the knowledge of his sister's (often unexpressed) concern. To him at least, it has only been a handful of months since their separation, but their familiar blood still entwines them. Of course he missed her as well. "I... I thought the same. But where..? How are we..?"

A young man dressed in white and golden armor makes his way over to greet him. His expression is one of peaceful salutation, but the way he carries himself is reminiscent of a harried man.

"Welcome to Askr. I am Prince Alfonse, and this is my sister, Sharena."

A harried man indeed. He explains their kingdom's situation and the enemies they're faced with. The young prince asks him to fight for this nation's cause, citing the accomplishments other heroes have made and the resulting calm brought to his citizens because of it. He implores Luthier without desperation, but with underlying grief. His people have gone through enough. And a prince is still just a man after all. Luthier pledges himself without a second thought.

Prince Alfonse was not wrong about how tough the battles are. Though Luthier's magic has improved, he isn't always able to stop the enemies that seem to regroup in waves. There are weapons and magic spells in this world that seem to prey specifically on his every movement. He has been able to avoid getting in over his head, at least until now, as a misstep on the battlefield has him trapped and at a large disadvantage against an enemy cavalry soldier, charging toward him and ready to bring their axe down. He knows it isn't the end if he can just reach his tome, but it has been flung so far away from his reach, and now the axe's blade draws closer and closer to--

"Coming through!"

He's pulled back out of danger suddenly, and a flash of blue and obsidian flies past him. Seemingly out of nowhere, a man from the Askrian side of the army appears and steps out in front of him steadfast and prepared to retaliate. The deep, rich, colors of his cape contrast strongly against the teal hues of his armor and hair. Luthier is only able to catch a glimpse of his profile, but he can tell the man more than confident in winning this duel by the grin he wears. He readies his pronged lance, and lunges forward with a devil's precision.

Luthier is shocked at how easy it is for the man to knock the enemy right off their horse. Although the opposing soldier is able to rise up to their knees, the blue-haired man wastes no time in striking them down once more. Only now, he pins the cavalier to the field with his weapon, impaling almost clean through the chest as he presses down hard. The soldier chokes on blood while their fingers scrabble against the shaft of the lance to no avail. A loud cracking sound can be heard and their hands fall to the ground with a lifeless thud.

When the man turns around, Luthier is almost reluctant to face him. The rush of adrenaline coursing through him has mostly subsided, and whats left is the guilt of how he had almost lost his life. Looking up to give his thanks, Luther is rendered speechless. The man cannot be any older than he is, and yet his experience fighting is that of a veteran who knows of nothing but battle. Streaks of blood cover his face, but his bright, blue eyes take the attention away from such an atrocity. And when their vision meets, there is a moment of calm acknowledgment-- no thanks are actually needed. The man smiles as if they weren't in a battlefield at all. Luthier should be relieved, yet feels his blood run cold.

"Pull yourself together," he tells Luthier cooly. "I'll meet you out there."

The man who had slain the soldier swiftly presses forward with a shout upon seeing more enemies headed their way.

Luthier picks up his tome and takes a cautious step toward the corpse left behind. There is no doubt the man had made a mess, but he still forces himself to look. Engulfing someone in flames wasn't exactly a peaceful way to rid of them, but in a way, it was certainly much _cleaner_ than this. The soldier's legs are mangled from falling off the horse and a few fingers are bent in opposite directions. Their armor is broken through, caved in so that he can see shattered bits and pieces of sternum and ribs poking out from the surge of blood. Glancing lower reveals the initial stab wound which was made to knock the soldier off their horse. It is more of a gutting than anything. Briefly, Luthier is reminded of the time his village elder showed him and a group of boys how to remove the entrails of a hunted stag.

The power of magic can render his foes to fall helplessly. This is nothing like that. Even with a full view of the corpse in front of him, what causes his stomach to churn the most is how the soldier thought they had a fighting chance. A gurgle can be heard from what's left of the body, snapping Luther back to his senses. The soldier is probably still alive, but not for long. He doesn't stay put to find out.

Luthier does not meet the blue-haired man "out there," but sees him in battles again and again, single-handedly littering the land with bodies from the Embliem army. And each time, Luthier cannot help but stop and stare at how he does so. The way he fights is harsh, cocky, and shameless. There is balant fury in his eyes opposing the easy smile on his face. He verbally challenges those dueling him to fight back harder, to give him _more_. Yet at the end of it, he is always the victor. And despite blood and dirt smearing his skin and armor, he emanates something akin to grace-- even now as he removes his spearhead from a dead soldier's throat.

But there is no tact in this. It's all just foolhearted bravery... or perhaps, Goddess forbid, a display of cruelty. Whether the man knows it or not, his strength and courage are _devastating_. And the only thing Luthier can focus on is how much he wants Delthea to stay away from him at all costs. Which, of course, is the exact opposite of what happens.

A week after Luthier's encounter with the blue-haired man, he finds out Delthea has been called to join battle near the Emblien border. Luthier insists he accompany her so that they may train during any downtime, but she refuses.

"I'm already going to fight alongside Alfonse, Cherche, and Ephraim." 

Delthea points toward the open castle gate and he sees a familiar figure standing between Prince Alfonse and Cherche, who he already knows as the tall, pink-haired, wyvern rider. To the left of her, the spearman he had encountered on the battlefield tosses his head back and laughs toward the sky after having something whispered into his ear by Alfonse. Before, Luthier had no idea what to call him. And now--

" _Ephraim_?" The name rolls off his tongue rather unpleasantly. He cannot place it to be a common name in Zofia, proven by the fact that Luthier has never had to utter it until this moment.

"Yep. He's really strong and even the prince of Renais!... or wherever he's from." Delthea crosses her arms and turns to leave. "Anyway, we've got all our bases covered, so don't follow along 'cuz you'll just get in the way."

A flash of Ephraim's handiwork on the battlefield floods his mind. "But he seems so... brutish. And that's a nice way of putting it."

Delthea gives him an exasperated sigh, already walking away. "As if war isn't just that? You only want people to fight how _you_ want! Whatever, I'm going now."

"But the enemies here are different! You might-- Delthea, listen to me when I'm talking to you!"

Even in the distance, he can spot her plugging her ears. He hears her greet them with a bubbly voice and sees her put on an equally bubbly smile. Prince Alfonse adjusts his baldric while Cherche mounts her wyvern. The brutish prince, Ephraim, pats Delthea's head and they all head out through the gate.

 

* * *

 

It is four days later when Prince Alfonse and the rest of the party return to the castle, and each member looks worse for wear. Delthea arrives riding with Cherche on her wyvern while Prince Alfonse and Ephraim sit on the back of a horse-drawn wagon. They are welcomed by the other heroes from various worlds who offer their warm congratulations for their victory. Luthier arrives, having to squeeze his way through the crowd to meet his sister.

"Delthea," he pants, "you're alright."

She grins while wiping away a smudge of mud off her cheek with the back of her hand. "Heh! 'Course I am. That'll teach you to doubt me."

He sighs, hand over his chest to catch his breath. "Next time, think about--"

"Ephraim!"

From the corner of his eye, Luthier notices a woman with long, blue, hair stepping out to greet the man she called for. He has seen her before in battle, but cannot recall her name for the life of him. Luthier allows his gaze to follow her path, and he can't help but stare as she stops to embrace Ephraim wholeheartedly. He returns her warm welcome, holding her close. None seem to light up his face as much as the woman in his arms does. He places a hand on top of her head and strokes down the length of her hair.

"Dear sister."

Though their welcome back is loud and rowdy, there is no mistaking what he had referred the other woman as. Not that he and Delthea are a shining example of brotherly-sisterly love, but Luthier finds it curious how a man such as Ephraim is able to hold that strong of a bond with his sibling. The crowd surrounding the heroes disperses as quickly as it gathered, and Luthier watches as Ephraim and his sister walk together in stride toward the castle entrance.

"Lu?"

"Hm?"

"Can you fix my hair? My hands are sorta... bandage-y."

Luthier says nothing while he moves behind Delthea, beginning to loosen the ribbon keeping her ponytail mostly together. He lays it over his forearm so his hands are free to comb through her locks, untangling knots while gathering her hair together.

Delthea tilts her head forward to help him. "Don't'cha have anything to say?"

His hands give pause just before he motions to wrap the ribbon around her hair. "Like what?"

"I dunno, maybe 'Gosh, Delthea, I sure was wrong, you really can handle yourself out here!' ... Or something of the sort."

Luthier inhales sharply knowing that he can't deny her now. "Fine... I'm glad you're able to handle yourself out there. And your team as well."

His voice withers slightly at his last sentence, and Delthea huffs, knowing where his mind has wandered to. "Ephraim's not such a bad guy."

He straightens her bow to even out the length of the ends of the ribbon. "I never said anything about--"

"Anyone can tell you were drillin' holes into him with your eyes the moment we came in."

Luthier feels his jaw clench at how on-target she can be for things that shouldn't matter. 

Delthea sighs from his lack of response. "I dunno what the heck he did to you... but if you're still pressed about the whole fighting thing--"

"It isn't about that--" Luthier interjects, only to be cut off as well.

"Things are different here, Lu. The _people_ are different. Why don't you talk to him? Just don't... do that thing you do."

"What 'thing' do I do?" There is nothing Luthier would enjoy doing less. He would rather avoid the man for as long as he can, but perhaps Delthea is right. Though it really isn't about Ephraim in the first place anyhow, he only wants to rid Delthea of any distractions. He then remembers the blue-haired woman by Ephraim's side-- his _sister_ , and thinks that maybe there is a way to speak and reason with him.

"Actually, that's a fine idea, Delthea." Before his own sister can begin listing off his verbal tendancies, he quickly centers her bow and nods to himself, firmly set on what to do next.

Delthea turns around with some underlying concern as to why her brother seems so excited. "Uh, yeah, you're welcome. I'm chock full of them too, y'know."

 

* * *

 

After asking around, Luthier receives knowledge that Ephraim is settling down for a meal at the castle town's inn. There's no need for him to be there, not when the castle's canteen provides all the same, and most likely better. Nevertheless, he heads over to see if he can have a chat with Ephraim. Lo and behold-- hidden in a corner of the inn, the prince of Renais sits alone amongst other Askrians, blended in as if he was one of their own. Though it could just be the dim lighting, Luthier is sure he can see a light tinge of pink spread across his cheeks. So the man was half-pissed already. Just great. He strides over toward the table Ephraim is seated at, leaning back in his chair, as he stares blankly into his nearly empty glass of alcohol. Luthier clears his throat loudly to grab his attention.

Without any noticeable reaction, Ephraim slowly turns his attention away from his glass. When his eyes meet Luther, he scans the mage up and down, then back up again, holding direct eye contact. "Hello."

Luthier nods to greet him back. "Yes, hello. My name is Luthier, perhaps you've heard--"

"Ah, I remember you, you're Delthea's older brother," he clasps his hands together as if he's finally solved something. He then extends an arm out toward Luthier for him to shake. "She's said many things about you. I'm Ephraim, by the way."

Without any thought to it, Luthier shakes his hand, suddenly more concerned by what he was just told. "Really? What did she sa-- wait, no, that's not why I'm--"

Ephraim leans back in his seat and offers the chair beside him with a wave of his hand. "Would you like an ale? Or maybe you'd enjoy the mead, it's much sweeter."

"I'm not--"

"Oh, I didn't realize you weren't of age."

"No, I am! I mean... I'm not here for a drink!" Luthier presses his palms down on the wooden table. "I want you to stop fighting by my sister!"

Ephraim raises an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by the fuss Luthier is creating. "Why?"

His response causes Luthier to sputter, hands clenching into fists. " _Why_? She needs to focus on her studies now that there are more resources here, and--"

"Is that what she wants?"

"It's what's best for her," Luthier tries to explain, "she's gifted in magical arts and if left untrained, she could severely hurt someone!"

The prince simply cocks his head to the side. "I thought that was the point of battles," he smirks.

"You're setting a horrible example for her," Luthier grits out, "with her magic, she could do so much more than just lay waste in battle."

Ephraim looks unmoved, crossing his arms. "I don't doubt it. But as much as you insist, the way she fights has little to do with me."

Luthier's shoulders droop in tired defeat, knowing he isn't about to make any progress debating with the man, especially in this state. "Ugh... I thought you might see where I'm coming from, but it's clear now that you are more tactless than I thought."

"Excuse me?"

"You're someone's brother too, aren't you? I am only trying to help Delthea." Luthier shakes his head, straightening his back with a sigh. "Nevermind. I'll just get going... goodnight, Ephraim."

"Hey, wait a minute--!"

His last words are muted by the chatting of the people Luthier makes his way through the inn. He squeezes his way out of the tavern, cursing under his breath about how pointless it was trying to reason with him. In the next following days, Luthier does his best to avoid even being in the same room as Ephraim, so as to not create any more awkwardness. There's no way he can console Delthea about this, so he turns to the other members of the Deliverance. But Faye only rolls her eyes at his predicament and Gray offers no sound advice. Lukas is off fighting with his team more often than not, and so he's left with asking Alm about what to do.

Alm suggests he apologizes.

Which is something he absolutely does not want to do. But perhaps his friend is right. Though his stomach flips at the suggestion, Luthier can say from experience that Alm knows what's best. Which is how he found himself searching, asking around, and finally, ascending the stairs to the top of the castle's walls to speak with Ephraim. As he opens the door leading outside, he sees the prince overlooking the castletown. Unfortunately, the man was not alone. When Luthier opens the door wide, it is more clear that next to him stands his sister, whom Luthier recognizes from before. She and Ephraim speak closely, not seeming to notice that he had even entered their proximity. Luthier clears his throat, catching the attention of the siblings. Ephraim's sister turns around immediately, startled by his presence. Ephraim looks over his shoulder, but gives no reaction either way. Upon closer inspection, they look strikingly similar. Their eyes pierce through Luthier, making him feel sunken into his shoes and leaving his mouth dry. The sister seems to read this from him and nods her head to dispel the silence.

"Hello," she begins in a gentle voice, "you are Luthier, I presume?"

He blinks. "Yes, I am. I don't think I've ever introduced myself to you though..."

She seems flustered by this, waving her hands bashfully as she explains herself. "Oh, I've just heard about you from others and... um, anyway, I'm Eirika. Ephraim's sister."

Luthier bows stiffly. "Princess," he greets, "I would like to speak to Ephraim alone, if that's alright."

"Oh," she clasps her hands together. "Yes, I'll just... leave you both to it."

Eirika turns to give her brother a withering smile and a careful glance at Luthier before making her way down the stairs.

Ephraim sets his posture straight as Luthier walks closer, and like this, the mage can see that the prince is taller than him by about a head. He wasn't able to tell during the night at the inn, but face to face like this, Ephraim is larger than he had thought. And if it wasn't obvious from seeing him fight, he looks very much capable of putting Luthier six feet underground.

"Hello, Luthier." Ephraim greets him without a hint of bitterness in his voice, but the lack of emotion on his face speaks for his hostility. "I take it you're here to talk about your sister?"

Right. There was a reason for him being here, after all.

"No, I wanted to apologize for the other night," Luthier begins, holding down a shiver.

" _Really_."

"Well, Alm originally suggested that I do so..." Luthier sighs when Ephraim raises an eyebrow expectingly. "But still, I can admit I might have said a bit too much."

Ephraim sinks back against the wall in the same position he had before. But he turns away from Luthier, opting to watch how the clouds pass over the distant mountain range.

"Just a touch," he responds lightly. Within the same breath, he shrugs off the original offense entirely. "Though it's reasonable for older siblings to worry about their younger ones, isn't it? Like you said before, it's the same for me as well."

"But it _isn't_ the same." Luthier shakes his head. "You and your sister seem so close. I wish Delthea would just listen to my advice for once."

"Hm... Eirika and I are twins after all," Ephraim shrugs. "Before our country's war, we'd hardly ever been separated. How old are you, Luthier?"

Talk about a change in subject. The question is abrupt and catches him off guard. "I've seen twenty-two summers."

Ephraim still stares out at the distance. "Two years older than me and my sister then." He finally turns away from the scenery and places a hand upon Luthier's shoulder. Then, breaking his serious demeanor unexpectedly, "Although I'm taller." He laughs at this, shaking the redhead's frame by doing so.

"Just by a bit," Luthier reminds him with a huff. It's a little _more_ than just a bit, but he isn't about to admit that. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Ephraim recalls his hand and shrugs. "I was just thinking about Delthea. Your difference in age must make it difficult for you both to understand one another."

"That much is obvious. But she should still hold some regard and respect for her elders." The way Luthier squints at Ephraim seems to imply an _"As should you."_

Ignoring Luthier's glare, Ephraim vouches for Delthea once more. "No matter what status, siblings will always be siblings. You could try to see things from her point of view too." His gaze is more distant than it previously was-- serious as well. "It isn't my intention to lead Delthea astray, but you cannot help that if it's what she chooses."

Luthier's always known this, but having it told to him by Ephraim of all people somehow wears him out even more. He slumps over the castle wall, letting his arms dangle over the edge and lets out a groan. "I just don't want her to hurt herself... she's still young. And she's all I have."

"That's admirable of you," Ephraim nods. "If I could have it my way, I'd never let Eirika go into battle if I wasn't by her side."

A vision of the blue-haired woman from earlier passes through Luthier's mind. He knows first-hand that she isn't one to fight as fiercely as her brother, but there have been passing moments where he's caught her returning from battle wiping streaks of blood off her blade.

Luthier raises an eyebrow. "From what I've seen, she seems able to hold her own."

"I know she is more than capable of protecting herself by now, but I still can't help but worry."

A moment of silence settles over them as Luthier ruminates on Ephraim's words. "Don't you think it's the same for Eirika too, then?"

Ephraim knits his brows together. "What's the same?"

Luthier straightens up, pushing himself off the wall. "It's true that Delthea might not know better just yet..."

"Mmhm."

"But _you_ do."

"She-- wait, wha--?" Ephraim blinks several times, as if he's misheard Luthier just now. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The way you rush into battle is downright careless," Luthier sighs, shaking his head in disapproval. "Does Eirika have any idea how reckless you are?"

"She--" A light shade of pink begins to bloom into Ephraim's cheeks. "Th-That's different."

"No, it's _worse_ coming from a grown man like you," Luthier deadpans, "with all the battles you've faced, one would think you'd develop any sort of strategy. But you just... rush in, like a hound! Do you ever have any plans at all?"

"Well... like I said, that's--"

Luthier almost wants to laugh at the expression Ephraim is making. He wonders if it's better to leave Ephraim here ruffled and confused-- it's probably the only way he'd have an upper hand against him.

"No need to explain yourself," Luthier shrugs with a growing smirk. "It sounds like you and Delthea need to work on the same lessons."

Ephraim bristles at his suggestion. "No way!"

"I merely jest," Luthier chuckles, "although, if you're ever open to studying with Delthea and I, you know where to find me."

The other man scratches at the back of his neck. "Err, I _don't_ actually. I think this is the first time I've seen you around the castle."

Now it's Luthier's turn to twiddle around awkwardly. "O-Oh. Well, I like to keep up with my studies in the library, so I'll usually spend my time there or training with Delthea." 

"Ah. Figures." 

Luthier frowns. "What do you mean by that?" 

"Well-- it's just that--" 

Ephraim's explanation is already lost to Luthier, who is now deep in contemplation. Delthea had always told him something similar, and now a man he barely knows is saying such a thing as well? Luthier wonders if he's just doing something... _wrong_ to make himself so predictable. Surely if Ephraim can make out his character so clearly, then enemies might be able to do the same! Has he really had so many openings all this time? 

"Luthier? Are you okay?" 

"Huh?" 

"I'm sorry that I said something inconsi--" 

Luthier waves him off and turns away toward the door. "Mmm, it's fine, I should get going." He makes a beeline toward the door, brain racked with thoughts-- too concerned with himself to even hear the prince calling after him as he shuts the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually have more chapters done im just editing and being lazy


	2. Chapter 2

Battles to protect the people of Askr rage on and it's only natural that Ephraim is often on the frontlines fighting. As expected, he is one of the first to rush into the fray, and though he makes it out alive, he sometimes does so with only an inch of his life. A prince should set a better example. And after this particular fight, Luthier makes his way to the infirmary to tell him just that.

Though the moment he sees Ephraim laying bandaged and motionless in bed, the words he had prepared are lost.

Without his armor on, he is indistinguishable from an average citizen. Ephraim tends not to act very princely in the first place, but there's something about the way he holds himself that gives him away as royalty. But no such posture exists at the moment while he rests, battered and bruised from his last duel. After witnessing Ephraim fight with such ferocity and glorious courage, the sight of him laying still and vulnerable like this makes Luthier uncomfortable.

He contemplates leaving, but before he can even make a move, Ephraim stirs in the cot and blinks his eyes open. He yawns, careful for the cut at his lower lip, and turns head toward Luthier.

"Luthier?"

"Y-Yes?"

"It's nothing. Hi."

A quiet air drapes over them. Now Luthier almost feels idiotic for visiting when they aren't even that close. He opens his mouth to awkwardly ask about what Ephraim's eaten, when he's thankfully interrupted.

"You know, you might be one of the last people I expected to visit," Ephraim chuckles, "since we didn't exactly leave off on a good note."

Looking back on it, Luthier realizes their last conversation _did_ end with him just... walking away.

"That... would be my fault. Forgive me if it seemed like I left in a foul mood, because I can assure you I wasn't in one. I was more confused with myself to be perfectly honest," Luthier admits, "I'm afraid I'm just not that used to conversing with others as I should be."

"Mmhm," Ephraim hums, "so there _is_ something else we have in common after all."

Luthier straightens up in his seat. "What do you mean?"

Ephraim shifts and stares back up at the ceiling. "It might not seem like it, but I'm not one for holding worthwhile conversations. At least not with strangers. It's always been me, Eirika, and our other friend, Lyon."

"You at least were brought up in a more sociable setting, weren't you?"

"That is true, but around me, only fighting was spoken of. It's all I really know how to discuss with many others."

Luthier turns his head down. "It's the same for me as well," he mumbles. "When I met Alm and the rest of the Deliverance, our world was at war. Alm was kind enough to make casual conversation from time to time, but it didn't change the fact that we constantly had to go out and fight. The things I'm really interested in... Alm never said anything against it, but it became pretty clear after awhile that it was only me who wanted to discuss them!" He lets out a nervous chuckle, not sure why he had to go and reveal something so... embarrassing.

"Alm, huh?" Ephraim asks with a smile. "Green hair, kinda short? He seems like a good kid."

 _Kid... as if you aren't only three years his elder_ , Luthier thinks to himself.

Lost in his thoughts, Luthier scans the extent of Ephraim's injuries. There's no doubt a capable healer would be able to dispell any serious wounds, but the bruising and soreness will last for awhile.

"What is it?"

Luthier hadn't realized he was staring, caught off-guard yet again by Ephraim. "How did this happen?"

Ephraim almost looks ten years younger while pouting. "I was careless and paid for it." He aimlessly waves a bandaged hand in the air to drop the subject. "Nothing else to be said. Priscilla healed what she could, so for now I'm resting here."

"For a prince, you sure don't act as refined as one," Luthier murmurs with a sigh, "consider your comrades' abilities before heading into a duel."

"Prince, huh..." Ephraim clicks his tongue, as if he wants to scare away the word. "You know, where I'm from, I was about to be crowned as king of my country."

Luthier wonders if the man expects him to be impressed. "I think that makes your actions even worse," he groans.

"It's not like I had recited my vows before being summoned."

"Like that makes a difference?"

Ephraim purses his lips together and refrains from answering. "Well, what about you?"

"Huh?"

"What were you doing before you were called here?"

"Me?" Luthier looks down at his lap and shrugs. "I had just left my home, crossing the sea to another land. It's funny-- I was even thinking I might never see Delthea again."

"So why'd you leave?" Ephraim asked. "I thought she was your only family."

"Magic," Luthier puts simply. "My ancestors were blessed by the goddess of our world. Surely you've noticed my sister's natural talent in sorcery."

Ephraim nods. "She is quite strong for her age."

"Indeed, she is a prodigy," Luthier agrees, "but I lack such raw skill. Where Delthea may master a spell in a day, it might take me a month. And even then, I must train tirelessly to try and match her power."

"So you left to improve."

"Naturally," Luthier confirms.

"And what were the results of your travels?"

"I learned a great many things about magic..." Luthier's lips twinge upward into a small grin at for next words. "And of course, an appreciation for my home."

Ephraim closes his eyes, as if to admire Luthier's experience dreamily. "I had always wished I could do something like that," he says lightly, "I held the dream of becoming the greatest spearman in all of Magvel."

"Though you wield a lance," Luthier pipes in.

"Huh?"

"Your Siegmund-- it's a lance isn't it? Not a spear," Luthier corrects. "The difference between the two, and even javelins and pikes is that while spe--"

"Well, they're within the same category," Ephraim quickly finishes with a snort. "But as I was saying, I wanted to run away and go on an adventure. Life at the castle wasn't exactly thrilling... I was grateful for it, sure, but it wasn't enough. I preferred being with my country's army. I wanted to fight as a mercenary and hone my skills-- the battlefield's where I belong. When I'm fighting out there, I truly feel--"

"I'd never have thought you'd be so selfish," Luthier blurts, interrupting him once again.

Once the words leave his mouth, his eyes widen with the realization that he actually said that out loud. From the cot, even Ephraim looks at him, wide-eyed with astonishment. 

"It... _is_ selfish of me, I know that," he begins tentatively, "at least now I do. Even my father was..." Ephraim's eyes falter at this. "No. As a prince, I know have an obligation to serve my people." He shakes his head. "All I'm saying is that here at least, I feel that I can fight more freely."

Luthier tries and fails to hold his tongue. "But just because you have no royal responsibilities here doesn't mean you can play the hero all the time."

"You talk as if I chose to come." Despite his injuries, Ephraim lifts himself to sit up on his elbows. His tone of voice loses the calm lit that previously accompanied his words. "Are you here just to berate me, Luthier? Before, you told me to consider my comrades. Not a moment goes by out there on the battlefield when I don't."

Luthier is a bit stunned to hear his words. Before this, he couldn't have imagined Ephraim's life to be very troubled. One growing up as a prince in a prospering country probably wouldn't have many obstacles. But considering the path Ephraim had chosen to fight tirelessly for his country... now Luthier can see first hand how the weight of a kingdom takes it's toll on an unprepared man. His interests and his position clash, and it has never been more obvious.

"And yet you're still only thinking of yourself." 

Ephraim grits his teeth audibly. "Care to explain?"

What part of this does Ephraim not get, he wonders. Luthier wouldn't say he's the best at empathy, but this at least, he can see clearly from Ephraim-- hidden behind his eyes is simply a man terrified of letting anyone else die for his sake.

"It's about how you'll feel if someone were to get hurt. How it'll haunt you if one of us falls." His fists clench onto his robes. The mage feels himself become more heated with the more he continues. "The battles we fight aren't for your sake, and you are not obligated to protect any of us-- remember that we are all here fighting out of our own volition. So at least give us that opportunity!"

Both men seem shocked that such a rant had come from his mouth. Inwardly, Luthier thanks Mila that no one else was occupying the infirmary.

Ephraim's expression sobers quickly as he studies Luthier's face for a moment. "I only wanted... nevermind that." He turns his head away, not in shame but in contemplation. Though it doesn't seem as if he has any more to say, he shakes his head and chuckles. "You sure don't sugarcoat things, do you?"

"Sorry..." Feeling that he has overstepped his boundaries, Luthier rises from the chair, awkwardly brushing down his robe. "I'll be taking my leave then."

Ephraim only hums nonchalantly. "It was nice speaking with you. You're really..." He shakes his head again as to disperse the thought. "We should talk some more another time."

Luthier pauses at the entrance of the room and looks back at him, almost dumbfounded by his suggestion.

"I..." _have more pressing matters to attend to do _, is what he wants to say. "Another time," is what comes out. "Take care."__

__Before leaving, he sees Ephraim grin like the fool he is and the action opens the split at his lip slightly. He winces from the pain and Luthier can't help but snort on his way out._ _

 

* * *

 

A wooden training arrow flies through the air and sinks far from the painted bullseye on a marked post. Ephraim curses to himself while walking across the field to retrieve it. Behind him, Innes scoffs while Leon claps sarcastically from where he's seated on the grass.

"You always were a terrible shot, but somehow you're doing worse than usual, Ephraim." Innes crosses his arms haughtily. "Distracted?"

When Ephraim makes his way back over to the two archers, he lets out a sigh.

"It's that red-haired mage, Luthier," Ephraim begins, "I just can't get his words out of my head. He speaks to me as if I'm a child."

Innes looks back at Leon as if to keep himself from commenting any further.

"I don't think we're the right people to complain about that to," Innes snorts.

Leon shrugs, tapping the recurve of his bow, feigning nonchalance. "You do act rather... _courageous_ at times."

Ephraim rolls his eyes. "I thought you said that was an endearing quality."

"A mistake on my part," Leon mutters under his breath.

"Hey!"

Innes plucks the bow out of Ephraim's hands and positions himself at the same distance from the target, ready to take his turn. Ephraim removes the empty quiver from around his shoulder, adjusting the strap before handing it to Innes. 

"Leon, you're from Zofia, aren't you?"

The seated archer takes a pause from tampering with his bow to answer. "I had joined the army, yes, but I'm not familiar with Luthier at all. Our paths never crossed until Celica and Alm met up. And even then, I never talked to him. He always seemed a little... off."

"I know of who you're talking about, but we've never formally met," Innes says, tapping his chin with a finger. "Is there something wrong with Luthier?"

Ephraim scratches the back of his head. "He was upset with how I fight. He said I'm too reckless... quite balantly, if I may add."

"He would not be the first one, then," Innes points out.

Ephraim clicks his tongue, elbowing the Frelian prince's arm.

Innes accepts the light shove instead of dodging it and smirks. "I mean it. You've heard what others have lectured to you before. But now of all times, you choose to listen?"

"I don't know..." Ephraim moves toward the wall where Leon is seated against and leans back on it. "I guess it's the way he said it that's bugging me."

Leon hums while inspecting his bow string. "Perhaps it has more to do with _who_ is telling you."

Ephraim sniffs. "Perhaps I don't understand what you're implying."

" _Perhaps_ you like him."

"Perhaps I... w-wait, _like_ him? I barely even know him!"

"Ah. Well get to that then." Leon waves his hand to shoo him away playfully.

"Don't get me wrong, he seems interesting enough... but all he does day in and day out is attend to the library. And he trains in magic... I don't know what to even talk to him about." Ephraim pauses. "I suppose I'm not averse to the idea, though."

"Regardless," Innes mutters, drawing his bow and taking aim, "you're from entirely different worlds. Literally and figuratively."

He releases the arrow, sending it flying right into the middle of the bullseye.

"You've just told us he spends his days studying, while _you_ faff about. And he's clearly serious about magic-- something you're not even remotely good at or interested in."

Innes shoots off another arrow, and it lands right next to the previous one, just barely splicing the nock and shaft.

"But if you truly want to befriend him, I suggest you find some common ground. Start off from there."

He wastes no time in procuring the last arrow in his quiver, aligning it, and firing it to hit the bullseye once more. When Innes turns around with a smug grin from having bested Ephraim, he finds the two men looking at each other, mouths slightly agape.

"What?"

Ephraim turns back to him and whistles. "You sure do know a lot about what to do in these situations, Innes."

Leon covers his mouth with the back of his hand to keep himself from laughing too loudly. "Yes, I was about to say!"

"Ohh, what a suitor!" Ephraim exclaims in mock-fanfare. He covers his heart with his hands and leans back, pretending to wilt. "Could we expect anything less from the prince of-- ow!"

Innes steps back after smacking Ephraim's head with his bow. "Enough. You're making an utter ass of yourself when you know I'm right."

Ephraim rubs the spot where Innes struck him with the bow. "Yeah, yeah... common ground, huh? I don't think that's gonna happen anytime soon."

"They do say opposites attract," Leon offers. "I'm not sure who 'they' is, but might as well try, eh, Mr. Courageous?"

At Leon's teasing tone, Ephraim sighs, knowing he might be getting in over his head. "He is rather fun to speak with. I'll just have to find out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> swag yolo
> 
> i really don't think ephraim would have some kind of Big Gay Crisis™ about thinking he might like another guy or anything... especially not in askr. and luthier.. is very dense, so expect shenanigans


	3. Chapter 3

Askr during the winter time is beautiful. Though the land is blanketed in snow, it is neither deep nor troublesome. The sun stays out shining more often than not as well, though not long enough to melt away the icy landscape. Such conditions prompt the people of the castle town to prepare for an upcoming annual celebration, dedicated to the end of the current year and the start of a new. Even the heroes who were summoned view the landscape of pure white as a joyous, more festive time, and partake in helping with the festivities.

Luthier however, confines himself to the library, making the most of the short days to unearth spells and scrolls he's never before seen. The library within the Askrian castle is filled with knowledge from different worlds and times, and Luthier intends to take advantage of it. Nothing can stop him from--

"Figures you'd be in here."

Luthier glances up from the papers and scrolls he has spread over the library's table to find Ephraim seating himself in the chair across from him. Aside from in the infirmary or in the dining hall, this may be one of the only times Luthier has seen him relieved of his armor. It also makes him realize that the only times they've ever really spoken was on the battlefield or on the training grounds. Here in the library, he is free from his guards and plates, and adorns more casual wear. Though his boots and trousers remain the same, he wears an overcoat Luthier hasn't seen on him before-- teal colored with gold embellishments, making it simple, yet still fit for a prince. Tied around his neck is a plain, tan, scarf, with the crest of Renais buttoned to it. Luthier himself keeps to his usual robes, which are at least warm enough to stop him from freezing outside.

Still, Luthier is rendered speechless, unsure of what to make of Ephraim approaching him in the library of all places. Though many rumors that circulated the castle were just baseless gossip, there was truth in the matter that the future king of Renais could not be considered a... _studious_ man, to say the least. To spot him in here was quite the surprise.

"Ephraim... may I help you?"

"You're always avoiding everyone, saying you have some studying to do. I only wanted to have a look." Ephraim scans up and down the table, raising an eyebrow at the parchment scattered all over it. "Is all this supposed to be... important?"

"Yes. What could be more important than learning about magic?"

"You're starting to sound like Sir Reinhardt," Ephraim smirks.

A loud "Shhh!" from across the library hall has both men turning their heads down awkwardly.

The mage lowers his voice to a hush. "Am I supposed to know who that is?"

Ephraim only shrugs back. "Thought you would. You've been living here for a bit of time now too. Don't tell me you haven't made any friends."

Luthier ignores him. Though it has been months since his arrival, he still isn't familiar with everyone, save for Ephraim and his allies from Valentia. But that doesn't matter to him anyhow. Studying the magic of this land requires more of Luthier's attention-- he doesn't want to spend his time running about for nothing. He turns back to the various books and scrolls laid out in front of him without answering, and a near-deafening silence surrounds the two men once again, fitting their given setting. 

"So..." Ephraim slumps back in his seat enough for the wood to creak. His eyes dart around the room and he begins tapping his feet against the flooring. "What kind of magic are you studying?"

"What..? Why are you asking?"

The prince shrugs. "I just want to know what you're so interested in."

For a moment, Luthier searches Ephraim's expression for any hint of mockery. When he finds none, Luthier almost feels overcome with pride-- as if his efforts in studying are being well-received.

"If you really must know," he begins, eyes suddenly lighting up for the chance to explain his discoveries, "I wanted to find out which types of magic can have a secondary attribute, and whether or not these can be attained naturally or if alchemy and other enchantments are needed. For example, lightning stems from clouds which hold water. When the particles of water move about, a charge is formed and falls as lightning-- which is also created through fire magic. The two are related through nature, but when it comes to sorcery, they're separate."

Ephraim rests his chin in his palm and blinks at Luthier indifferently. "I... see..."

Luthier nods proudly. "I've been at this for half the day now, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to finish by..." He slowly looks up at Ephraim, sitting back in the chair, empty-handed.

"Actually, you have perfect timing." The redhead begins to roll up a few scrolls before excitedly pushing them toward Ephraim's side of the table. "It'd be very helpful if you could sort these readings by the elemental properties they cover. Then we can examine their similarities and gather the necessary--"

Ephraim shakes his head quickly. "Err, I'm not so sure I'd make a great assistant. Magic and spells... it's never been my forté."

Luthier's shoulders drop immediately. "Oh." He then motions a hand to shoo him away. "That's... fine then. You're in a library, so why don't you go find something to read if you're going to just sit there?"

Leaning over the table, Ephraim furrows his eyebrows and frowns. "You're speaking too low, I can't hear you."

"Yes you can," Luthier mumbles, still trying to maintain his whisper, "you could hear me fine just a second ago."

"What was that?"

"Enough jesting, Ephraim."

From the front of the room, another "Shhh!" is directed toward their table.

Luthier clamps his mouth shut and glares at him. Heat rises to his cheeks in embarrassment, though the prince across from him only looks all too amused. Again, Ephraim ceases to let up and cups a hand around his ear. "Really, I didn't hear you."

"I _said_ \--!"

Both men are promptly removed from the library.

Outside, Ephraim stretches his arms above his head and leans against a wooden post. "Finally out of that musty, old, place. Fresh air would do you some good, Lu."

Luthier rolls his eyes. Hearing someone else call him the nickname his sister gives him just sounds... wrong. "Don't call me that. Only Delthea calls me that. And the library isn't _musty_ , it's just..."

"Musty?"

He kicks at a laughing Ephraim in the shin without any real force. "I was going to say modestly kept."

Luthier brings his hands up to his mouth to breathe warm air onto them, and begins walking toward the entrance to the castle's garden. Though frostbitten and laden with snow, the quiet and emptiness of the area could put anyone at ease. "I need to clear my head. Please don't follow me."

The sound of a second set of footsteps crunching against ice and snow behind him is a clear indicator that Ephraim is following him anyway.

"But I got us out of there so we could train," Ephraim claims, "you're the one always stressing how important it is to practice. C'mon, I want to see how powerful your magic is."

Luthier nearly doubles over from what he's hearing. When he turns around, Ephraim is just about toe-to-toe with him, having to look down slightly to maintain eye contact. In any other context, he'd probably seem more intimidating. But Luthier can't think of slinking away now, not when he now knows his plans for the day were intentionally ruined.

"You got us..? You were being loud on purpose!" He emphasizes his last word while poking Ephraim's chest with a finger. "Just when I had found something of inter-- ah... ah--"

Luthier sneezes into his elbow before he can finish the rest of his sentence. 

"With the robes you wear, one would think you'd be able to keep warm." Ephraim unravels his scarf and hangs the soft, woolen, cloth over Luthier's neck. "Here, you need it more than I do."

"You'll get cold too," Luthier protests. But his actions negate his words as he wraps the scarf around his neck anyway. It warms him back up almost instantly, as much as he'd hate to admit.

"It's okay. I ran a lap around the castle with Hector before this, so I've warmed up enough."

Luthier almost laughs when he imagines Ephraim and Hector circling the path around the castle like dogs frolicking in the snow. No doubt that they had pestered the summoner and poor Eliwood into joining them again.

"Either way, do not follow me. I'd like to be alone with my thoughts for now."

Luthier drags his feet all through the garden with Ephraim following right behind, silently. He settles for a wooden bench beneath a bare tree, brushing off the snow piled on it's surface before taking a seat. Ephraim, not far behind, repeats Luthier's actions and sits down next to him.

"Why did you follow me."

Ephraim blows out a warm breath just to see it fog up in the cold air. "You have my scarf," he simply replies.

"You know I can just give it back to you later!"

The prince only glances around the garden, unfazed by Luthier's protests. "Hey, don't act so sour, Lu, I managed to sneak this out for you."

He reaches into his coat and presents a leather-bound book with gold font on the cover. When Luthier motions to grab it, Ephraim lifts it higher out of his reach.

"Give it here, Ephraim," Luthier grumbles, "you have no use for tomes anyway."

"You know, I _was_ thinking I could take up sorcery as well..."

This at least springs a laugh out of Luthier. "As if! I think this is the first time I've ever seen you this close a book."

"Ah, you've caught me." Finally, he hands it over to Luthier with a lazy smile. "You probably have already noticed, but I'm no good with texts and such."

Luthier mentions nothing about the humorous talk he's overheard concerning the prince's scholarly skills, knowing that there's only so much Ephraim would find tolerable. "I've gathered that much from the vast amount of time you spend in the library," he mumbles sarcastically.

"It's not as if I'm illiterate," Ephraim chuckles. When he sees the unchanged look upon Luthier's face, he waves his hands in front of him almost comically.

"I swear! Only following the letters and words..." He brings a hand up to ruffle the hair at his nape and breaks his eye contact. "It's difficult for me."

His sudden change in expression piques Luthier's interest. He knows he should mind his own, but... "How do you mean?"

"Ah, nevermind it, that's..."

Luthier settles the book down in his lap and faces Ephraim fully. "I'm not mocking you. I just want to know."

Ephraim searches his cheek for a moment before shaking his head. He scoots closer and reaches over to grab the tome back out of Luthier's hands. He flips it open to a random page and runs his index finger down the text.

"Here, um... let me find a sentence..." he pauses for a minute, staring at the page as if to size it up. " _Even the harshest gales brought forth new life._ "

Luthier skims the passage for himself, frowning. "You read that just fine." He looks back up at Ephraim, unsure of what to think and is surprised to see the man pressing down on his eyelids with a sigh.

"Yes, but it took quite a bit of concentration to read so suddenly." Ephraim rubs the bridge of his nose with the pad of his thumb. "It sounds crazy, but... to me, the letters in each word seem to mix around and change shape. I've learned to read with the wording like this, but I'm still quite slow at it. And reading for too long will give me the worst headache. Writing isn't any better and-- and at times it's hard to find the right thing to say when I..." he pauses to chance a look at Luthier, only to find the other man staring back, wide-eyed in possible confusion.

"I'm... sorry for rambling. It's ridiculous, I know... just forget I said anything."

Luthier can tell Ephraim isn't lying by how terribly flustered he looks while telling him this. "So that means you're..."

"What?"

"I once learned about a condition like this," Luthier explains, "there's no name for it where I come from, but what you've described-- with the letters shifting around... it's much like what I've heard. It's astounding that you've managed this much though. I didn't realize it was something that could be improved."

Ephraim blinks. A relaxed smile slowly creeps onto his face as he recognizes that Luthier is taking him seriously. "You don't find it strange?"

Luthier shrugs. "It _is_ strange, but... it's just one thing about you. Everyone is different, after all."

Ephraim looks back down at the open book and grimaces. "Not many people know about it, so I used to wonder if I was born cursed." He shakes his head. "Eirika isn't like this, thank the gods. She and Lyon were kind enough to help me in our schooling days, but it's because of this I've wanted to spend my time away from studying."

Luthier turns and squints at him. Legibility or not, he can't imagine Ephraim as a young student sitting still. Or as a king willing to sit at his desk.

"Err..." Ephraim winces under his scrutinizing stare. "Of course, it didn't help that many of the readings were so boring as well..."

"Enough," Luthier sighs before snatching the book back from Ephraim. "You're starting to sound like Delthea."

He examines the cover of the text once more and rifles through the first few pages. "This... isn't even a magic tome. It's just a regular storybook."

"Oh. Whoops," Ephraim shrugs. "I just grabbed what I could reach, honestly."

Luthier's fingers spread over the shimmering font of the cover and he smiles from recognizing it's name. " _Whisperer In The Woods_ ," he reads.

"What's that?"

"You've never read--" Luthier manages to catch the rest of his words before they leave his tongue. "Um. What I mean is..."

Ephraim laughs heartily and Luthier feels his posture slacken in relief. "It's alright, I know you mean no offense... and I'd never want you to step around eggshells for me. I've just never heard of this story."

Luthier rolls his fingers along the book's spine. "If you've never heard of it, then perhaps it isn't as popular of a story in your homeland. I'm pleasantly surprised that different worlds still hold similar tales."

"I guess we're all connected one way or another," the prince nods. "What's it like?"

"It's about an plain woodcutter who meets a beautiful forest sage that can--"

"Well don't spoil it for me," Ephraim muses, "I only wanted to know if it was good or not."

"Oh. Hmm... I enjoyed it at least." Luthier taps his soles against the snow on the ground, wondering why his opinion on it should matter to Ephraim at all. "I thought you said reading too much gave you headaches. Are you actually going to read all this?"

"I _can_ actually read. Just takes some time, is all." Ephraim folds his hands in his lap, looking more modest than he's probably ever been. "But you know, I was actually thinking... maybe I could just listen. To you."

Without fully considering Ephraim's words, Luthier balks. "You don't expect me to read the whole thing, do you? When will I get the time to study?" He fails to hold back the harshness in his voice, only realizing it too late.

"Oh... I'm... sorry for being so forward." Ephraim says, scratching the back of his neck meekly. He puffs out a chuckle, but the way he averts his eyes is proof of his embarrassment. "I should have known you're too busy. I'll have to ask Eirika sometime."

Something within Luthier _sinks_ upon the sight of Ephraim's lowered head. As much as he would rather be training or focusing on his studies in new sorcery, it isn't as if his time in Askr is limited. He can't believe he's doing this, but--

"What I mean to say is... a book like this will take some time to get through. If you're okay with hearing me read for days on end."

The corners of Ephraim's lips perk up yet again, and he looks like the very definition of a dog being thrown a bone. "That's fine by me."

His grin causes Luthier to feel his chest swell inside, and he mentally runs through every emotion he's read about to categorize whatever it is. It isn't that he's _pitying_ Ephraim-- goddess forbid. There's just something about the prince, who has always been calling out to him within the castle walls or encouraging him on the battlefield, that makes Luthier want to show his appreciation. Or something.

Either way, Luthier tucks the thought to the back of his mind for another time. "Well then, let's get started."

"Really? Right now?"

"Why not?" Luthier looks up and points toward the clear sky, slowly deepening in hue as the day grows late. "The sun is still out. If we can make it back to the citadel before it sets, I could probably get a chapter in."

Ephraim practically leaps from the bench, yanking Luthier up with him. "Then what are we waiting for?"

When they make it to the mess hall, they find a cleared table and take a seat across from each other. Though there are few others in the room, none seem to care for their presence. Behind them, Luthier can hear Raven grumbling to Lucius while the latter voices calming words. And at the far end of the hall, he sees Michaelis and Minerva having a glare-down while Maria sits in between them, spreading jam on a roll of bread. 

"We're lucky dinner isn't being served yet," Ephraim notes, "with all the commotion, there are times when I can't even hear myself think."

Luthier nods. "I'm not used to having a meal surrounded by so many people. I usually take my bowl outside to the main hall and eat at the steps."

"That's a good idea. Perhaps I should join you sometime," Ephraim suggests.

"Be my guest, if you really want to," Luthier shrugs.

He props the book up on the table and flips open the cover. While turning to the beginning of the first chapter, Ephraim's fingers peek over the top of the page, tapping on the paper to get his attention. When Luthier looks up, Ephraim is looking him with a kind smile and eyes that Luthier can only describe as _soft_. He leans over the table, just mere centimeters in, as if to tell a secret.

"Thank you, Luthier."

When Ephraim says this, his voice is low and sincere and gentle, and so unlike how Luthier has _ever_ heard it before. Luthier forces his eyes to stay put on him, as if he'd disappear the moment he turns away. Again, seeing Ephraim in a more vulnerable state is rare and seemingly unnatural-- only this time instead of feeling unnerved by it, Luthier feels... strangely warm.

"It's not that big of a deal," he replies, surprising himself with how steady his voice manages to come out.

Luthier tears his eyes away from Ephraim's and clears his throat before beginning the story.

" _Long ago, there was a quiet village located by the rocky shores of the Manaidan Sea. There on the outskirts, lived a young man..._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hc ephraim being dyslexic!  
> I do not have the disorder, but I have done some research into it while writing this. I know there are different ways dyslexic people see and read words and letters, and different levels of severity (not sure if i really explained that well...) but if my portrayal of it is in any way wrong, offensive, or misunderstood, please know that it is unintentional and inform me so I may correct myself and fix my writing.


	4. Chapter 4

"Prince Berkut, you are a married man, are you not?"

The dark haired prince noticeably hesitates. He lowers his lance from where it was mounted, and turns to find Ephraim leaning against the armory wall nonchalantly.

Berkut narrows his eyes. "Engaged, actually."

Oops. Ephraim isn't intimidated by Berkut, but it would be best to not get on his bad side. It was no secret that Berkut held only one woman dearly, and Ephraim wanted to know what he had done so that she felt the same. Of course there were others he could ask, probably with better information. Pent and Louise, Quan, or even Est. But from what he's heard, Berkut's betrothed was sweeter than most, gentle, and his exact opposite. And she truly loved him with all her heart.

"I was just wondering... how did you _woo_ her?"

At this, Berkut gives Ephraim an incredulous look. "I've never needed to ' _woo_ ' anybody. As a prince, I have a right to be respected and admired."

Ephraim rolls his eyes, biting back his groan.

Berkut shakes his head sternly. "You do need to remember our status more often, Prince Ephraim. But to truthfully answer you... Rinea was a more special case." His voice softens at this. "I did what I could to ensure her she had my full attention. She was more of a private person, and I always assured her that we would have our time alone. She loved dancing," he trails off, "and music... flowers..."

"Flowers, huh?" Ephraim mutters to himself, "he doesn't seem the type to appreciate them though..."

Berkut turns his head up and scoffs. "Hmph. 'He,' you say?"

Ephraim begins to stammer. "Well, I know it isn't--"

"In the first place, are you so sure in treating him as a maiden?" Berkut's scowl deepens. "What would a scholar such as Luthier even do with flowers?"

"H-Hey," Ephraim nearly chokes on his words, "how do you know I'm talking about Luthier..?"

Berkut pinches the bridge of his nose. "As if half of Askr does not know you're courting him."

Ephraim inhales deeply, feeling himself flush for being so obvious. "Well, that's beside the point, I still was asking you."

"If you insist." Berkut lets out a snort from seeing him fluster. "Rinea was by all means delicate... her family was low standing and was ridiculed by many a court for it." His face subtly twists into bitterness for a brief moment at the mention of it. "Aside from battle, I made sure she was there in all aspects of what I did. She deserved that, at least."

Ephraim nods. "I believe it."

Berkut's shoulders droop slightly, seemingly put off guard. "Prince Ephraim, if you wish to win his heart, you should make him feel special. Include him in your own schedule regularly."

Ephraim raises his brows. "I already go to see him in the library though."

"Bah," the other prince grumbles, "if you can't understand this now, then you should just give up." He takes a stone to his lance's blade, beginning to sharpen the edges. "There is nothing else like knowing someone has been thinking of you... at least that's what Rinea always told me."

It becomes quiet between them, and now more than ever, it becomes clear to Ephraim that Berkut misses his fiancee dearly. He feels that he should leave their talk at that, and figures he's gotten enough of an opinion. Never would he have thought to get such thoughtful advice from the prideful prince, but Ephraim supposes he isn't in any position to find much strange anymore. He sets out toward the doors of the armory, lifting the heavy wooden latch to leave.

"Thank you, Prince Berkut." Before Ephraim exits, he turns back to face him once more. "I hope you can meet Rinea again some day."

Berkut looks away with a quiet huff. "As do I."

 

* * *

 

After suppertime, Ephraim walks down the corridors of the castle toward the inner entrance of the library. Before he can make it there however, Luthier emerges from behind the heavy doors, carrying an armful of books.

"Luthier! Just the man I was looking for."

"Hm?" The redhead peers behind the stack of tomes to find Ephraim jogging toward him. "Good evening Ephraim."

"Let me carry some of those for you," Ephraim offers. He takes half of Luthier's stack into one arm and begins to walk with him. "Did you already have something to eat?"

Luthier adjusts the books in his arms. "Yes, I had supper in my usual spot."

With the sunlight already faded, the halls of the castle grow dim. Servants arrive to light torches all around to envelop their surroundings in dim warm light. Most of the heroes have retired to their rooms or elsewhere by this time, something Luthier was just about to comment on, until Ephraim streches his free hand out in front of him to lean on the wall, and stopping him in his tracks.

"By the way, I was wondering... since it's getting warmer..." Ephraim stops mid-sentence to look around.

Luthier, not knowing what to do while somewhat trapped between the bricks and Ephraim, gazes around the hall with him. "Err... what are we looking for?"

"What?" Ephraim turns back to Luthier. "Oh. Nothing. I was just wondering if you'd like to come watch me spar."

" _Right now_?"

Ephraim laughs, "No, it's much too late. What about tomorrow in the noontime?"

Luthier purses his lips tightly. He doesn't _not_ want to spend time with Ephraim-- he's found his company quite comforting. But he had just found the most compelling gaia tome, and there's actually correlating notes written within the margins, and--

Ephraim's smile fades and his expression mellows. "It's okay if you don't want to."

"No, I... we'll see," he says slowly. "But, thank you for asking me."

"And here, Delthea told me that you don't have much tact with others," Ephraim removes his hand from the wall and rubs the back of his neck. "I suppose you've changed as well since arriving."

"Delthea never thinks I have _any_ tact," Luthier mumbles. "And... well, I usually _don't_ in these matters of dealing with others. But..." He stops himself, feeling slightly embarrassed to go on. 

Ephraim of course, can't help but goad him. "But what?"

Luthier shrugs, squirming slightly where he stands. "It's because you're plesant, that I'm... it's fine with you," he admits.

Ephraim says nothing, only staring unflinchingly at the mage. "You think I'm plesant?"

Luthier's face begins to feel flush under his gaze. Thankfully that could be covered by the low glow of the torches nearby. "Yes. I mean you're nice. And stuff."

A playful smile on Ephraim's face begins to form and he leans closer into Luthier's space until their shoulders just barely touch. " _And stuff_?"

"I'm saying that... err, I don't know..! Just forget it."

Ephraim laughs toward the ceiling and their contact causes his voice to carry over onto Luthier. The mage feels his skin start to form goosebumps, making him shiver ever so slightly. "Ugh, don't laugh, you're the one who asked!"

"I'm sorry," Ephraim apologizes mid-laugh, "the way you said it was cute, is all."

Luthier is _sure_ the torches are unable to hide his redness now. "That doesn't even make sense! You sure have a weird way of complimenting people..."

In fact, Luthier thinks Ephraim has a weird way of doing many things. Not that he really minds.

 

* * *

 

Luthier crosses the long walkways of the castle toward the training ground, raventome in hand. It isn't as if he's losing any time, but he decides to cut through the canteen to make his trip a bit faster. He just needs to turn this corner and--

_Pang!_

Luthier nearly leaps out of his boots. The loud sound seems to be coming from the direction he's heading in... from the back of the canteen itself. The clanging of hollow metal and clinks of silverware amplify with each step closer toward the kitchen. Luthier wouldn't normally bother checking in on any mishaps caused by any of the other heroes, but then there's yowling from behind the door that sounds an awful lot like it's coming from a scared cat. He pushes through the door expecting to save some poor defenseless creature, but instead he's faced with two men chasing each other around the room. A bag of flour just barely misses his head, smacking against the stone wall to produce a white cloud.

"Impeccable timing, Luthier."

"Huh?"

When he looks up, Jakob is gripping the back of Gaius' tunic and collar and is directing him toward the door Luthier was just about to shut.

"See this one out, won't you? I'm preparing a tart for my master Corrin, and this... absolute _goblin_ is unable to keep his fingers out of the sugar."

Gaius, the true source of the cat-like yowls, writhes in Jakob's hold, grabbing onto any surface he can reach to free himself. "Wha-- hey, who's a goblin?!"

Luthier tries to walk past the two men, but at every turn, the butler blocks his path. "Errm, sorry, Jakob... I can't really be of any help at the moment--"

"Well, _tough_." Jakob grits his teeth audibly and jerks his head to the side. "Take that one too-- he lingers because he knows there are sweets coming. I will not take 'no' for an answer."

"Wait, who..?" Luthier looks about the galley, not knowing who to expect. He had passed by Stahl brushing down his horse not too long ago, and if it wasn't Gaius, the cavalier would usually be the one trying to sweet-talk Jakob into leaving him something to eat (to which Jakob would, for some reason, give in).

But instead of Stahl, sitting at the table as stoic as ever, was Lukas.

"Salutations, Luthier," the soldier smiles.

"L-Lukas? I didn't know you liked--"

Jakob stomps toward the door, Gaius in tow, and now hefting Luthier up as well. " _Just get out!_ "

Before Luthier can react, he's barrelled out the door from having been thrown. Both he and Gaius topple onto the stone flooring while Lukas steps out behind them and closes the door.

"Ow... sheesh, what a dick. Lot stronger than I thought, too." Gaius rubs his backside and glares up at Lukas who looks back down at them with an almost amused expression. "Hey, why didn't you get tossed out?"

"Patience is a virtue, I suppose. I had only wanted to watch him bake in the first place."

"Yeah right," Gaius snorts, "I saw the way you gobbled down that cake Sakura made for your birthday."

Lukas only smiles back innocently. "I certainly wouldn't decline a slice if he offered."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." The thief begins to rise up, brushing off his pants. "Well, enough about that." He turns toward Luthier, offering a hand to help him up. "What were _you_ doin' in the kitchen, Sourpuss?"

Luthier usually would pout at the nickname Gaius had bestowed onto him the moment they met, but now he can't pay it any mind. He accepts the thief's hand and stands. "I only wanted to cut through this hall to get to the training grounds faster. Ephraim wanted to meet up and--"

"Wait, wait," Gaius interrupts, " _Ephraim_?"

"Yes."

Lukas taps a finger against his chin. "As in, Prince Ephraim of Renais?"

" _Yes_ ," Luthier huffs.

Gaius and Lukas share a look of confusion with each other.

"Hey..." Gaius wraps an arm around Luthier's shoulder, pulling him in closer. "That guy's not bothering you or anything, right?"

"Huh? No..."

"You make it sound as if he's a schoolyard bully," Lukas chuckles.

Gaius returns his light laughter. "Nah, I'm just surprised is all. He's a great guy, but I just didn't think you two would be so chummy. No offense, Sourpuss."

Luthier blows a misplaced strand of hair away from his face. "Gee, thanks..."

"What do you guys even talk about anyways?" Gaius wonders. "Hard to believe you'd have anything in common. The guy's pretty popular. Yep, a real wonder-boy, and you're just... well, _you_ ," he laughs.

Lukas crosses his arms at the comparison, but smiles nonetheless. "Gaius..."

"Heh, no offense again, I mean."

Luthier shakes his head. "That's okay, there's none taken. I'm a little confused about it myself." The three men begin to walk down the hall as Luthier begins to speak again. "I'm unsure of what he wants from me-- always asking to chat or read together... and now he wants me to watch him spar."

Lukas smiles. "Sounds like you've made a new friend, Luthier."

"Friend?" Luthier purses his lips tightly. "But he's never mentioned that before... do you really think--"

"Oh, come _on_ ," Gaius groans, slapping the center of his own forehead, "that's not anything people just announce... how did Delthea even live with you?"

"Friendship _is_ something that just develops naturally, Luthier," Lukas assures, "it's something felt between both parties, rather than said explicitly."

Luthier scratches his chin. "Then I suppose I see him the same light as well."

"That's the spirit," Gaius grins, patting Luthier's shoulder. "The guy's getting you outta your shell, Sourpuss."

"I've fought by him before. He has no ill intentions, that much is true," Lukas supplies, "he may seem a little pushy at times, but it seems to be only around those he is comfortable with. He's a good man. A tad overconfident at times, but still honorable and noble."

"Yeah, what he said," Gaius nods.

"Maybe we are friends, but... I just don't understand why he'd want to spend his time with _me_. Back at my village, pretty much all the boys and girls my age avoided me. Like I was some kind of... of..."

"Freak?"

Lukas keeps his smile steady as he smacks the back of Gaius' head for interrupting so rudely. "Go on, Luthier."

Luthier shakes his head. "I'm just sure a prince like him will tire of my company eventually."

"Friends hold no social status in between them," Lukas states. "It would be wrong to treat them as anything less because of how they were born."

"I can relate," Gaius chuckles. "Me and Chrom go way back, y'know? Imagine, a prince like him picking a thief like me up, and never holding my occupation against me. I'm curious though, what d'you two even get up to anyway?"

Luthier raps his fingers against his tome. "Well... he does try to help me pick out scrolls and spellbooks from the library. He gets them wrong half the time, but I guess that counts. And he said he enjoys talking with me. That we have a lot in common or something. And he said that I'm cute."

Gaius' eyes widen as Lukas' brows lift in surprise. 

Luthier sighs. "I know right? I don't understand it at all."

"Well, what did _you_ say?!" Gaius grips onto his shoulders, practically shaking an answer out of Luthier.

"I-I said he was pleasant... and stuff."

"Please tell me you didn't actually say 'and stuff.'"

Luthier winces and Gaius groans. "Good _gods_ , Sourpuss. You can't tell me you don't see--"

Lukas places a hand upon the thief's shoulder, flashing a smile that looks a bit more clipped than usual. He pulls him back and mutters something to Gaius before turning back toward Luthier.

"Humor him, Luthier. I'm sure it'll do you both some good."

Luthier sighs again. He remembers the village gatherings back home, and how so many of the other boys and girls his age avoided him and vice versa. "We'll see..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pppttbbhh
> 
> gaius and luthier would be a funny friend combo. my dumb redheads and lukas.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might be the shortest chapter.... i rushed this bc i just wanted it to be done with im srry!!!!!!

As the seasons pass, a new rumor has begun to circulate through the castle grounds. Luthier, tending to stick to himself, never would have thought he'd hear his name mentioned by any of these people. And it's very hard to imagine stranger things have happened.

_"Prince Ephraim is quite fond of that Zofian mage, don't you think?"_

_"Someone's finally helping him study, perhaps?"_

_"Helping with something else, I would assume."_

Luthier ignores them all while biting his tongue. " _Humor him_ ," Lukas' words echo... and now where's that gotten them? Back home in the forest village, he had grown accustomed to any and all sorts of gossip concerning him. But to include Ephraim in such talk... the jabbering now frustrates him in an indescribable way. He doesn't even want to ask Ephraim if he knows. But if he does, he says nothing about it, and chooses to spend his time clashing spear against sword with the Ylissian exalt under the warm, spring, sun.

On this particular day, Chrom has won more duels between them in a score of five to four. Luthier must admit he's impressed-- even though it's just a single point difference, it's quite a feat for having the disadvantage in his choice of weapon. Both princes lean against their practicing armaments, panting heavily and grinning at each other all the same. 

"I don't understand how they can continue any more," Luthier murmurs, worn out from his own session of training. "I can appreciate their dedication, but they should have stopped three rounds ago."

Robin, Prince Chrom's white-haired tactician with bright eyes and a brighter personality, nods in agreement. "Maybe it's a pride thing," he chuckles, "at least Frederick and Seth have something to bond over."

Both Chrom and Ephraim must have finally taken a notice of their fatigue, and conclude their fights for the day.

"Ah, I think they heard us," Robin jokes.

The tactician rises from where he was seated in the grass and makes his way over to Chrom. He crosses the field walking, but in hurried steps, leaving Luthier to sit at the sidelines. Even from the distance put between them now, Luthier cam tell there's something different in the way Robin carries himself now. His demeanor with Chrom is somewhat softer-- more private. Luthier can't pinpoint it for the life of him, and figures he might as well take his leave as well, already standing and gathering his things. At least until a steady hand claps the small of his back.

"There you are."

Ephraim pops up from behind him, panting and worn. As he is dressed in his full armor, the crest that holds his cape in place over his shoulder is a stark reminder of his royal position-- even if the rest of him looks a lot like less at the moment. His hair has matted down a bit from sweating, and some dirt and a few light scratches cover his cheek. Luthier has seen him after a sparring match before, and at the end of them he always looks more like an unsheltered dog than a tired soldier. His appearance at the moment is no different from all those times. 

Ephraim points over to a folded towel on top of a nearby bench where Luthier has set his tomes. "Could you hand me that?"

When given the cloth, he immediately wipes the sweat away from his forehead and nape, afterward draping it over his shoulder. "Chrom may have bested me this time, but we'll see how long that lasts."

From behind them, Chrom and Robin laugh together heartedly, catching Ephraim's attention.

"Hey, I saw you chatting with Robin," he informs, "I told you not everyone here's so bad."

Luthier hums in agreement as they begin to walk back toward the armory. "I was only skeptical. Your definition of what's good or bad often differs from mine."

"Oh sure," Ephraim comments sarcastically, "leave it to me with... Luthier?"

The man in question man hadn't even noticed he had been unfocused, looking toward the ground and nearly stumbling over a discarded brick laying in the middle of the field.

"Huh?"

"You okay? You're pulling that face again."

"What? What face?"

"The one where you're overthinking. You know, like--" Ephraim squints his eyes and purses his lips together into a flat line.

"You look foolish." The redhead straightens up and clutches his tomes even tighter to his chest, beginning to walk in a brisk (annoyed) pace. "I do not look that foolish."

Ephraim laughs with his head thrown back. "If you say so. Still, what were you thinking about? Did Robin say something strange to you?"

Luthier slows his pace to a stop. He wants to keep something like this to himself, lest he accidentally be the start of some inane gossip. "Maybe..."

It was more of what Robin _didn't_ say that was troubling him. Luthier isn't able to place the meaning behind Robin's eyes whenever he looked at Chrom. Though his face held no drastic expression, it still seemed as if he was lost in thought. What was it about the exalt that put such a pause on the world around him?

"You can always tell me."

So Luthier does.

"Chrom and Robin... they _are_ friends, aren't they?"

Ephraim tilts his head to one side, watching Luther's face carefully. "Of course. from the moment I met them, they've always been together. The bond they have is admirable."

Luthier chews on his bottom lip. "But lately I've noticed... there's just something different about the way Robin looks at Chrom. Like he wants to say something. Yet when they're actually together, it's as if he forfeits the thought."

Again, Ephraim takes his time to answer, considering his choice of words. "Perhaps it's something more than friendship between them."

"Like?"

"Perhaps love."

"Love?" Luthier turns to catch a glimpse of Chrom and Robin once more, needing any sign to confirm his question. "Their relationship is like _that_?"

Ephraim shrugs with a chuckle, "It's just a guess. Have you never thought of it?"

Now it's Luthier's turn to shrug. "I'm terrible at reading others," he confesses, "growing up, I was never very sociable... I guess I missed out on seeing these things."

"I wonder..." Ephraim scratches his chin. "So you've really had no friends up until you met Alm?"

Luthier frowns. "Well... yes. There was one, but... I wouldn't really say that counts."

"Mhmm..."

"What?"

"Oh nothing. Only, Delthea told me that you had a cat at one point."

"Errm..." Luthier can feel himself becoming sheepish. "It was probably the only creature that wouldn't run away from me," he sighs.

He hears Ephraim stifle his voice and Luthier juts out his bottom lip in a scowl. "Oh, go ahead, you can laugh. Looking back on it now... well, it _is_ a bit ridiculous."

"No, I'm not laughing at you, it's just that it's..." he covers his smile and furrows his eyebrows, contemplating. "Cute."

Luthier nearly chokes on his spit. "Again with that nonsense," he sputters, "I am not _cute_! I could turn you into a lizard if I had the right tome."

Ephraim bumps their shoulders together, laughing. "I'm sure you could. But you wouldn't do that, it'd be such a waste of magic."

"But of course." Luthier waves him off, but there's no hiding the way his lips turn upward into a small grin.

He smiles to the ground, shaking his head at Ephraim's foolishness, only to realize that the prince was no longer laughing. When he looks up, Ephraim's demeanor has become solemn and relaxed as he watches Luthier.

"Ephraim?"

"Luther, I--" he seems to hold himself back, and his peacefulness is done away with in a mere second. "After I've set my things away, may you walk with me? I have something I wish to discuss."

Luthier has never seen Ephraim look so nervous before. He knows it must be important. "I'll wait for you out here then."

Once Ephraim has mounted his weapon and removed his armor, he returns to the field and finds Luthier seated in the grass once more. He offers his hand to help him up, and leads him across the training grounds and through the castle. It isn't before long until Luthier notices that the scenery has become unfamiliar to him. By this point, they've left the polished hallways and are out into a secluded terrace. 

"I don't think I've ever been to this side of the castle," Luthier remarks.

Exotic plants fill the roofless room, bordering the stone pathway which led to several benches. In the middle was a pond, brought into the vicinity by a small stream that had been branched off into the waterway of the castle. They stop over a small wooden bridge perched above the pond, and Luthier looks down into the water. Large lilies and colorful fish liven up the scenery beneath them. The bright orange fish spin about, seemingly following each other's tail. The quiet beauty of the area is almost hypnotizing to Luthier.

Ephraim clears his throat then. "Do you remember when you visited me in the infirmary?"

Luthier peels his eyes off of the fish, dancing around each other. He looks to Ephraim, whose gaze is already set upon him.

"Err, yes, but why?"

"Back then, while I was resting... you were right in scolding me about how I fight."

It isn't what Luthier was expecting, considering how that conversation was nearly a year ago. In fact, he had almost forgotten about that moment altogether. Was Ephraim perhaps still upset about what he said? In retrospect, he _was_ a tad bit harsh...

"I never meant to--"

"It's alright," Ephraim swallows, "even back in my world, I was the same. I guess old habits die hard, huh? I lost so much in Renais. Everything was just falling apart. As I saw my sister and my friends fighting alongside me... I wanted to protect them the most. But that _was_ too reckless."

"What are you getting at?

"I just understand the difference now." He leans against the railing of the bridge, looking as if he could throw himself over it with how shaky his voice was. "Now that you've become so close to me as well... you're someone I want to fight _with_ and not just for."

Luthier feels his chest grow tight, the same way it does whenever Ephraim speaks to him with such sincerity. He wants to say the same things. He wants to tell Ephraim that he's so important in his life now and that he wants to fight alongside him. Though when he finally has the courage to speak, all that can come out is, "but... why?"

"Why..?" Ephraim visibly squirms in place. "You've been someone I can truly be open with... I feel that I can trust you. You take me seriously and don't sugarcoat things when you talk to me, and that's nice. Most of the time at least."

"Um. Thanks, I guess."

There is a pause between them.

Luthier raps his fingers against the bridge. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"I mean, no," Ephraim sighs, gripping onto the arching of the bridge so tightly that the leather of his gloves have probably stretched.

"Um..."

"Luthier, I just..."

"You..?"

Ephraim almost looks ill with his cheeks tinted pink and eyebrows drawn together. His hand rises to rub at the back of his neck, a gesture Luthier now pinpoints as a nervous tick. Ephraim inhales sharply, and lets out a groan. "I'm no good at this," he huffs.

"Good at wha--"

"I like you, Luthier." The moment he says this, his shoulders seem to deflate, as if the weight of his words came crashing upon him. "So much, and I... truly, that's all I wanted to say."

Luthier stares back at him with eyes as wide as saucers. He's never known anyone to speak to him so openly before. "I had always suspected, but... is it really okay?" Luthier asks quietly. "Even though I have such little experience with this?"

Ephraim gulps, face reddening. "If you feel the same, then that's all that matters to me."

Luthier draws his sight back to the pond. "Even for a prince, you are so casual with your speech... and your mannerisms with others. Sometimes it confused me." He raises his head to look at Ephraim face to face, eyes filled with anticipation. "I never thought I'd end up so comfortable around you, and yet here we are. I'm glad I was summoned here... I'm glad to have met you."

Ephraim beams at him.

Luthier nods and offers his arm to shake. "I like you too. I'm truly glad we can be friends."

Silence.

It's almost undetectable, but Luthier notices the way Ephraim's smile falters and fails to reach his eyes.

"Friends?" Ephraim's voice actually _cracks_ when he repeats the word.

He sounds absoluely _crestfallen_ and Luthier has no idea what he's done wrong.

"I... you do consider us friends, don't you?"

Ephraim's smile has disappeared and he almost seems to recoil physically. He looks as if he's about to choke. He clasps Luthier's arm and they give each other a shake.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaa luthier u clown ass mf
> 
> i didnt really read over this very well pls point out if there's mistakes.. h x_x
> 
> one more chapter.. it needs a lot of work lmao.. thank u everyone who has actually read my nonsense and bigger thanks to everyone who has kudos'd/bookmarked/subscribed u have no idea how much it means to me T////T


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter.. i dont really like how this turned out too much but whatever no regrets we post like men

The past week has been miserable for Luthier. Ever since the day he and Ephraim spoke in the indoor nursery, he hasn't seen him once. Rather, Luthier _has_ seen him, but the latter would always be occupied with something else. Ephraim has never been one to dawdle with excuses, but it's becoming more and more obvious that he'd rather be doing anything else than spend time together as before. Luthier tries to throw himself into his studies, but fails miserably at the stray thoughts that the silence of the library allows. He's given up on trying to make contact with Ephraim at this point, and lets out a dejected sigh while he currently roams through the garden. The emptiness isn't any better than the library, but at least in the Spring, he can be a little more distracted by the brightly blooming flowers, the happily chirping birds, and the... muffled sniffling noises?

When he looks about to find the source of the unfamiliar sound, he finds Ninian sitting against the trunk of a magnolia tree. She sits curled in on herself, knees to her chest and arms wrapped around them. Her long, flowing, hair was splayed onto the grass beneath her and looked like a blanket covering her shoulders.

"Oh, Ninian, you're here as well." Luthier steps over to her and sits back against the bark adjacent to her. Upon closer inspection, her cheeks seem flushed and eyes a bit swollen. He has half the mind to leave her alone, as he does not know the dancer very well. But still, she has been sweeter and more patient with him than most others here in Askr. It's the least he can do to offer her the same kindness. "... Are you alright? What are you doing here?"

"Ah... it's embarrassing to say, but..." she smiles, although it doesn't reach her eyes as it usually does. "That was a big sigh you made just now. You tell me your troubles, and I'll tell you mine?"

Luthier doesn't even know where to begin. Usually he wouldn't bother to open up to others, but if it'll help her as well, then...

"Ninian," he leans his head back against the tree. "If you like someone, you wouldn't stay away from them, right?"

"Is this about Prince Ephraim?"

Luthier nods slowly. His voice can barely come out above a whisper, "It seems that he cannot bear to be around me as of late... I don't understand what I've said or done wrong."

Ninian scoots closer to Luthier's side. She rests the side of her head on his shoulder and pats his hand. "Oh, Luthier, he'll come around... Prince Ephraim does not seem like the type who would purposefully hurt you. It'll be okay."

It is comforting, but not by much. Still, it's the most he's let out about his predicament to anyone, and it at least relieves some tension.

"And you?" Luthier inquires, "why are you hiding out here?"

Ninian plucks a budding dandelion amongst the grass in front of them and twirls it between her fingers. "Lord Eliwood and I had an argument." Although she is still halfway buried into Luthier's shoulder, he can tell her face reddens further. "And he ended up being disappointed in what I had said, and..."

Luthier can feel a drop of wetness seep through the fabric of his robe as her frame shivers slightly. She drops the flower and curls in on herself a bit more. Inwardly, he panics, wishing he hadn't asked her at all-- she shouldn't have to relive anything that's caused her such strife. Eliwood and Ninian were lovers even before coming to Askr-- of course something like this would hurt her so.

"Um..." Luthier fiddles with the sleeve of his robe. He has no idea what to say, but tries to console her anyway. As she had done to him, Luthier holds his hand over her's assuringly. "Eliwood is a good man. I'm sure he'll apologize soon enough."

"Thank you, Luthier..." She straightens up from leaning on him and wipes away a stray tear. "I know, I'm overreacting... I just cannot help but think that he might still be upset with me." She relaxes a touch and steadies her breath. "But every couple has disagreements once in awhile... I'm sure you understand as well now."

"Err... No, why would I..?"

Ninian blinks. "But I thought you and..." She clamps her lips suddenly. "Nevermind that then, you'll figure it out soon enough," she simpers.

Luthier only deflates more. "If you say so..."

"I do say so," Ninian teases. "Besides, it isn't really my place to say, even though you're my friend, Luthier."

Her words make him bristle curiously. "Are we... friends? Since when?"

"Hm?" She leans her head on her knees and peers up at him. "Of course we are," she giggles, "it's not something I have to tell you and make a big deal of."

"Oh. Gaius told me the same thing once. But then..." Luthier blinks. " _Oh_!"

Everything just clicks into place all at once-- Ephraim wanting to speak with him privately, his visible discomfort while doing so, and how sullen he became when Luthier went and said _that_ \-- all when Ephraim really wants is... wanted was...

Ninian leans forward to catch a glimpse of his shocked face. "What is it?"

"Ugh," Luthier sinks his head into his hands, fully moping now. "No wonder he's been avoiding me... I must have looked like such an idiot."

"What do you me--"

Before she can ask, a voice calls out from the entrance of the garden. "Ninian? Are you here?"

The dancer squeaks in surprise. "Eliwood..?"

Luthier doesn't think he has ever heard her drop his title before.

The Pheraen lord appears from behind the drooping wisteria vines, looking withered until he spots Ninian. He rushes over as a relieved smile begins to form on his face.

"Ninian, there you are! I was--" he pauses when he notices Luthier beside her. "I'm... Luthier, h-hello."

Luthier nods, feeling embarrassed for Eliwood with how flustered he was. He feels Ninian tense up next to him before she rises from where she was seated.

"Lord Eliwood, I'm sor--"

"Ninian, forgive me, I--"

The two of them pause, stunned and suddenly at a loss for words. Ninian turns away and lets out a small giggle while Eliwood rakes a hand through his hair, swallowing hard.

From the base of the tree, Luthier coughs awkwardly into his fist.

Eliwood seems to jolt into action at this, remembering their conversation should be more of a private affair. "Sorry Luthier, I'll be stealing Ninian away for a moment, if it's alright."

Luthier smiles. At least Ninian can be at peace. "I don't mind at all."

"Good luck, Luthier," Ninian mouths to him, just before turning back around.

Eliwood extends his hand out to her. "If I may..?"

Ninian has always been beautiful, but seeing the way she lights up when facing the man she loves is truly something else. Luthier almost feels as if he's intruding. She takes her beloved's hand, and immediately his fingers twine around hers.

Luthier watches the two walk away hand in hand and his stomach twists as he wonders what it is that he wants.

 

* * *

 

Just passing through the Askirian hillside, Quan and Ethlyn ride together on the same steed alongside the horse-drawn cart which pulls along Ephraim and Tiki on top. As the party draws closer to the castle, Ephraim flops back onto a pile of hay behind him and sighs.

"You seem on edge, Ephraim," Quan notes, "excited to see Luthier once we return?"

"I'm sure you must be happy to return to your lover back at the castle." Leaning back against her husband, Ethlyn folds her hands over her heart and sighs. "Why, I remember when Quan was still courting me..."

"Oh, not this again." Ephraim playfully flicks some hay toward them, feigning disgust. "Besides, Luthier isn't my lover."

Ethlyn straightens up so fast, the top of her head collides with Quan's chin, causing the Leonster prince to bite his tongue.

"Hrrrk-- Ethlyn..."

"He's _not_? But I thought you both were so close?"

From the moment they had met, Ethlyn, like Luthier, was quickly made aware of how rash Ephraim could be on the battlefield. It's made for more cautious lectures than he could count while getting healed by her. Perhaps seeing her own son grown and fighting in this world has made her motherly and caring instincts kick into overdrive and pour onto others. Presently, Ephraim was _just barely_ in her good graces, though he has no doubt that his next words could change that. Thankfully Tiki was fast asleep next to Ephraim, and unable to join in on... whatever conversation was about to take place.

"No," Ephraim shrugs in an attempt to hide his bitterness, "I had confessed some days back, and he... well..."

He can feel Ethlyn's eyes digging into him warily. "So he rejected you?"

Ephraim purses his lips to drop the subject, though to no real avail with her curious stare. Ethlyn will eventually get it out of him-- might as well be sooner than later. "He didn't exactly _say_ it... he just thought I wanted to be his friend."

Quan hums. "As long as it hasn't created any bad blood between you two."

"That's just the thing, though," Ephraim replies, "I haven't talked to him since."

"How... unexpectedly cowardly of you," Ethlyn says.

Ephraim grinds his teeth. "I know, but I can't just... waltz up to him after all _that_. I don't think-- oof!"

Quan held onto Ethlyn's waist as she reached over to the wagon and brought her staff down hard on Ephraim's abdomen.

"You, you, _you_ ," she huffs, "what about Luthier?"

Ephraim holds onto his stomach, groaning. "I already told you--"

"Have some empathy, Ephraim," she says softly, "in the first place, Luthier doesn't have many friends. How many times do you think he's ever heard 'I like you,' directed toward him?"

Ephraim says nothing, staring up at the cloudy sky and watching the sun fall.

"He must be so confused. If you think you're suffering, think about what he could be going through... it must be as if he's lost a friend."

They ride through the castle town, and make it to the barracks by nightfall. During the entire ride back, Ephraim cannot help but ruminate on Ethlyn's words. Luthier isn't some lost child, but he'd be confused for sure. He has seemed so genuinely happy when Ephraim confessed to him... did he really not understand? Who was he kidding, Luthier has probably never dealt with such an affection. He's probably so disappointed now. And Ephraim had gone and put him in that position, expecting... what, exactly..?

Ephraim sits up immediately, just as the cart has stopped in front of the barracks. His motion makes the wood of the cart creak loudly, waking Tiki beside him. The dragon stirs and stretches, rubbing her eyes sleepily and blinking multiple times to clear her vision.

"Eph..? What's wrong?" 

Suddenly, Ephraim has his head dropped in his hands. "Gods, I've been such an ass."

Tiki tilts her head to the side. "Umm... Mar-Mar told me that's a crude word..."

"Forgive him, Tiki," Quan shakes his head with a smile. He dismounts from his horse, and holds out a hand for Ethlyn before turning toward Ephraim. "Finally mulled it over then? What are you going to do now?"

Ephraim nearly topples over after getting off the wagon too quickly. "I've-- I know now--"

He's already unlatching and unbuckling his armor and hanging up Siegmund, and once finished, heads straight toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Ethlyn asks, "Shouldn't we meet with the summoner first?"

"Tell them I'm taking the night off," Ephraim calls, already halfway out of the room, "I'm, err-- pretty tired!"

Ethlyn rolls her eyes with a knowing smile.

 

* * *

 

Ephraim runs back into the castle, guided by torches lighting the way through the evening. He sprints down the halls towards the side of the castle that housed all who were summoned. Unfortunately, Luthier happened to reside much further down with the rest of those who came from Valentia, but that did little to stop Ephraim. He rushes by, practically flying down the corridor and ignoring the questions of others and the irritated calls of Frederick to walk. When he gets to Luthier's room, he can't even bother to straighten himself out-- his hair is fliped in every direction, chest heaving, and face red from his exertion. Ephraim considers none of these things before he begins knocking and knocking and knocking, until he can hear stomping toward the door, and a familiar voice calling out behind it--

"What in Mila's name is so urgent?!"

Luthier pulls the door open to find Ephraim, fist raised and halted from knocking again.

"What... Ephraim?"

Dressed plainly in only his tunic and trousers, Luthier looked as if he was just about getting ready to turn in for the day. 

"Luthier! I wanted to talk to you."

Luthier's eyebrows lift. "R-Really?"

"Yeah, I--" Ephraim bends over, resting his hands upon his knees for support. "Um... hang on," he gasps. "I sort of ran all the way from the barracks, so..."

"The entire way?!" Luthier gawks, scanning him up and down, "you look ragged!"

Ephraim raises his posture, taking a deep breath. "It's okay, that's not really important right now." He says this, suddenly becoming conscious of his surroundings. He looks like a mess coming back from the war front, and dashing through the hall all the way to Luthier's room did no favors for his appearance either. There was no doubt he attracted attention either; when he chances a look to his side, Sakura and Elise are peering at the two of them from behind a corner.

"Um... actually, can I come inside?"

Half of him expects to have the door slammed in his face. He's justified with that at least. But Luthier steps back, inviting him in. From around the corner, the giggles from the two princesses follow Ephraim through the door, heating the back of his neck.

The inside of Luthier's room was a mess to say the least. Papers were strewn all over the floor, scrolls hung from wall to wall, and books from the library were piled and stacked into miniature towers all around him.

Ephraim's jaw hangs. "Wow, you were really busy, huh?"

Luthier huffs something under his breath that Ephraim isn't able to catch. He turns around, arms crossed, not in irritation or impatience, but because he clearly does not know how else to hold himself. It had only been a bit longer than a week since they've spoken, but looking directly at him now, Ephraim can see how much it's taken a toll on Luthier.

"How have you been?" Ephraim asks, hating how plainly it comes out.

Luthier looks genuinely surprised. "How have I _been_?"

Ephraim winces slightly. "No, that's not..." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Luthier, I wanted to let you know that I'm sorry for avoiding you," he exhales, "I acted selfishly and you didn't deserve that... I understand if you want me to leave now."

Luthier's hands anxiously ball into fists. He doesn't move, doesn't even look directly at Ephraim. Luthier's shoulders sink and he lets out a weary sigh that Ephraim wishes he wouldn't have to hear.

"You know, at first I didn't really have any idea why you wanted to get to know me," Luthier begins, voice slightly trembling, "eventually I stopped caring. I had never felt such comfort from being with another person before."

His words sink deep into Ephraim, now feeling more guilty than ever.

"Delthea's always told me I can be overbearing, and when you stopped meeting with me, I..." He looks as if he's about to crumple-- so confused with his feelings-- it's never been so obvious that he's never experienced anything like this before. "When you _know_ I'm... it isn't my fault, is it..?"

"No!" Ephraim's hands lift up and hover over Luthier's shoulders, not knowing what to do with themselves. "No, Luthier, of course not."

"You really hurt me, Ephraim."

His words come out so quietly-- so _honestly_ , it is all Ephraim can do but to pull him into an embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Luthier," Ephraim sighs, stroking his hand in circles on Luthier's back. "I should never have placed any sort of expectations on how you felt. Just forget about what I said before, I'm perfectly fine with--"

Luthier's frown deepens, and Ephraim can feel the slight movement against his skin.

"How am I supposed to forget that?" Luthier asks.

"What..?"

"Does that mean you... don't like me anymore?"

Ephraim's face turns beet red, and it's very much past the point where he can blame it on running. "Now wait a minu-"

Luthier pulls away from him, sinking the heels of his hands onto his eyes. "Gods, I've ruined everything, haven't I?"

"Ruined..? What are you talking about?"

"You said you liked me, and I... I don't know! I don't really get it at all," Luthier groans, turning away from Ephraim and beginning to pace to and fro, "but when I'm with you everything else seems so distant in my thoughts. I'm happy being with you, but it's not the same as if I'm with Robin or Lute, and I-- I've never been so unsure about anything in my life--"

"Luthier you're--"

"It's just that you've been so wonderful, and it makes me feel so restless--"

"Hang on--"

"Just when I've figured it all out--"

Ephraim reaches out and grabs his shoulders to halt him. "Luthier!"

Luthier jolts, finally meeting Ephraim's eyes, tired and desperate. "Wh-What?!"

"Calm down! Just-- slowly, okay?"

Suddenly aware of how close Ephraim is and how warm his hands are on him, Luthier lets out a shaky breath.

"I like you too..." He swallows. "I think..."

Ephraim doesn't react, not right away. When he finally manages to, he shakes his head, laughing breathlessly.

Luthier on the other hand, feels himself heat up from head to toe.

"What's so funny?"

Ephraim finally stops laughing, gaze staying locked on Luthier, searching his face for something. He draws his fingers through Luthier's hair covering half of his face, pushing it aside to see him clearly.

"We've both been so clueless, haven't we?"

Luthier finally cracks a smile as well. "Ephraim, I--"

"Can I sleep here with you tonight?"

Both men freeze.

As quickly as the words leave his mouth, Ephraim is fumbling over them, waving his hands dismissively. "I didn't mean... I don't mean to do anything else, I just don't want to be away from you right now. Is that alright?"

And just moments ago he had wanted to relieve Luthier of any expectations. Somehow, it's so very... _Ephraim_. Luthier has to laugh.

"You can stay," he nods.

Luthier's fingers meet Ephraim's, coltishly, clumsily, hooking onto each other's. He takes a step back and Ephraim takes one forward. Slowly, they walk toward Luthier's small bed, finding themselves feeling ridiculous trying to fit in together. Luthier ends up half-laying over Ephraim, resting his head upon his shoulder while Ephraim himself has one leg dangling off the mattress. They lay just like that, simply basking in each other's warmth and familiarity. Luthier can feel Ephraim's heartbeat pulse through his body steadily, and Ephraim listens and learns the rhythmic ins and outs of Luthier's steady breaths.

"Ephraim."

"Yes?"

He feels so foolish for asking, but-- "What is it that you like about me?"

From the corner of his eye, Luthier can see Ephraim turn his head toward him with an easy smile. He lifts his hand up, counting off his reasons with his fingers, one at a time.

"I like how you have a constant gap in your schedule to come meet with me. And you get flustered when I point it out-- its charming in a way. It's nice that you drop whatever it is you're occupied with to speak to me... and you can be quite easy to read, you know."

Luthier continues to stare at the ceiling, feeling his cheeks flare up from self-consciousness. "What else?"

This earns a chuckle from Ephraim. "I never pictured you to be so narcissistic."

"S-Sorry," Luthier sputters, "I didn't mean to come off th--"

"I'm only joking." He turns his body over to face him fully, and his voice softens then. "I like how much you care for your family and friends. I like how you dedicated you are. And passionate too. I like seeing you pour yourself into your work and how absorbed you are during training."

Luthier feels his breath catch in his throat, unsure of what to say, or do, or where to look. But as if Ephraim can sense his nervousness, he takes his hand, linking their fingers together.

"It takes a lot to ground me, I know," Ephraim whispers, "And I'm thankful that you're unafraid to speak up to do so."

Luthier can only purse his lips tightly and nod.

"You don't have to force yourself," Ephraim tells Luthier, "it'll be okay."

"It'll be okay," Luthier repeats.

He truly believes it.

 

* * *

 

Luthier wakes up feeling warmer than usual-- likely due to his face being pressed into Ephraim's neck. Their legs are tangled together and he can feel an arm sprawled around his waist. Ephraim's other arm is pressed under him into the mattress, and there's no doubt he'll be numb once he awakens.

Luthier had mentioned his inexperience in such intimate situations, but somehow this feels completely natural. Still, he scoots away from Ephraim, giving himself room to straighten out and for Ephraim's limbs to wake up as well. After yawning, he opens his eyes to find Ephraim watching him.

"I imagine I'll be getting an earful from Ethlyn," he chuckles.

Luthier yawns again. "What for?"

"It's a long story."

Luthier doesn't bother to ask, instead opting to untangle himself from Ephraim and stretch out his legs. Ephraim does the same, reaching his arms over himself and circling his wrists before lifting himself up on his elbows. As Luthier watches Ephraim sit up on the bed, sunlight encompasses his frame, almost making him glow. Luthier is almost stunned to silence from the view. He looks ethereal in this light-- like the king he's meant to be. When he smiles, Luthier realizes he's been caught staring. But instead of offering a teasing comment, Ephraim somehow knows to wait and listen to what Luthier has to say. 

"Ephraim," Luthier begins, voice slightly wavering, "about... about this, I--"

He has to look away, feeling almost breathless with the reality of their relationship sinking in.

"I'm not forcing myself," Luthier finally blurts out, "I want this... I don't understand it all, but I want it."

Ephraim stares at him for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to say. He leans over Luthier, brushing his hair aside before closing their distance to press his lips against Luthier's forehead.

"Wh-What was that for?"

Ephraim lays back down next to him and shrugs. "You were being unfair."

Luthier covers his forehead with his hand, pressing on the spot of skin Ephraim had kissed as if it was burning through him.

"Okay, now I really don't understand that."

Beside him, Ephraim laughs and continues to tease him. As Luthier watches the way his eyes crinkle with mirth and hears the genuine joy in his voice, he soon finds himself laughing along, knowing he'll understand soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imma be devastated if luthier comes into feh as a blue unit bc i refuse to take ephraim off my main team lmao... i need balance...
> 
> anyway, this was. sappy af... big thanks to everyone who actually read this, even if its just a rare crack ship.. yall are the realest i swear.. ty for letting me indulge in my nonsense T__T
> 
> i wanna write an epilogue but i make no promises bc im a lazy little fool

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on my phone, so lmk if there are any mistakes. thanks for reading this nonsense
> 
> also check out fanart by @BIG_BIRD_420 inspired by this fic, [here](https://twitter.com/BIG_BIRD_420/status/1132852125266898944?s=19) and [here](https://twitter.com/BIG_BIRD_420/status/1142287426099937280?s=19)
> 
> its. good stuff. bless up


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